


I'll Take You Around the World

by SamanthaNovak



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Caring Castiel, Caring Dean Winchester, Castiel & Dean Winchester Friendship, Castiel & Sam Winchester Friendship, Castiel Has Self-Worth Issues, Gen, Ghost Possession, Human Castiel, Hurt Sam, Hurt Sam Winchester, POV Castiel, Protective Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester Whump, could be viewed as pre Sastiel, wasn't written as Sastiel though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-19
Updated: 2018-04-19
Packaged: 2019-04-24 20:27:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14363001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SamanthaNovak/pseuds/SamanthaNovak
Summary: Set in a S9 AU in which stopping the trialsdidn’talmost kill Sam so there is no Gadreel which means human!Cas didn’t have to leave the bunker.Team Free Will decided to tackle a simple salt and burn case. Easy, quick, less likely to end bad for anyone involved - except, of course, the ghost they were hunting. But when the ghost gets the better of them, Sam gets hurt a little more seriously than being thrown around by an angry spirit.





	I'll Take You Around the World

**Author's Note:**

> I can’t remember what prompted me to write this – it’s been sitting on my computer for _months_ untouched while I worked on other WIPs. I was reorganizing my Writing folder when I came across this. It was labeled “Guardian Angel Part II.” I _was_ going to make it the next little one-shot chapter of my Guardian Angel fic but I decided against it. I want to rewrite Guardian Angel at some point. So this became its own thing.

* * *

 

It was supposed to be an easy hunt.

Well, as easy as any hunt can be when Dean was still treating Sam like he was going to fall over any second after stopping the trials and Castiel was human because Metatron had stolen his grace to cast the angels out of Heaven. Needless to say, Team Free Will wasn’t operating at one-hundred percent. But that didn’t stop Sam from insisting they could handle what appeared to be a haunting.

 _“_ _Seriously, Dean, it’s only a few hours away. It’s not like we’d have to drive for three days or anything. We get there, we figure out who it is, we salt and burn the corpse, we’re home in a day or two,”_ Sam had insisted. _“We can handle this.”_

He’d pointed out that he was _fine_ and Castiel may not have his mojo to smite a threat in less than a second but he still knew how to fight with his blade. Yeah, a ghost might throw them around a bit and Castiel would feel it now without his grace but Sam reasoned he and Dean had been tossed around more times than the youngest Winchester could count and they were fine.

Reluctantly, Dean agreed that they could go. And as they investigated and asked questions and snooped in places they weren’t supposed to be after hours, he had to admit they were doing better than he’d expected. After only two days of searching, they figured out who they were dealing with and on the second night, they made their way to the cemetery to salt and burn the body.

All three of them set to work digging up the grave. Once the coffin was unearthed and open, the fun really began. Their ghost made an appearance and damn, she was _not_ happy about the three of them digging up her body. Dean agreed to play decoy while Sam and Castiel hurried to salt and burn the body.

That’s when things went downhill.

Castiel had just finished pouring salt over as much of the body as he could, Dean’s taunts and the sounds of battle playing out behind him like a macabre soundtrack to what they were doing, when he heard Dean cry out followed by a _crack_. Leaving Sam to pour the gasoline over the salted body and set it aflame, Castiel whirled around to see what happened to Dean.

Dean lay unconscious slumped by a tree and the ghost was gone.

In hindsight, Castiel realized he should have stayed beside Sam for the next few seconds to ensure the younger Winchester could get the body lit. He should have been able to protect at least _one_ of the brothers. Instead, he’d hurried to crouch beside Dean, hands uselessly fluttering between the blood trickling down the side of his head – presumably where he’d made contact with the tree – and his neck to feel for a pulse.

So distracted with one Winchester, he forgot to keep an eye on the other until he heard Sam call his name in a frantic tone.

The fallen angel was back on his feet and turning his attention back to Sam before he even consciously thought about performing the actions. He glanced at his hand which was now gripping the iron rod Dean had been using to fend off the ghost; he didn’t remember picking it up from where it had landed beside Dean. His attention jerked back up when the ghost let out a horrible _screech_ and came rushing toward Castiel with the fluid speed all ghosts possessed. He lifted the rod and swung hard with a grunt. The iron passed right through the ghost and she dissipated like mist.

Panting, he glanced toward Sam who stared at him with wide eyes, holding the gas can in trembling hands.

“Sam,” Castiel urged, hurrying back toward him, iron rod in a tight grasp. “Hurry! Finish it before she comes back!”

Sam twitched slightly as Castiel’s warning jerked him back into focus. He quickly turned back to the grave and shakily poured the gasoline across the salted body from head to feet. Unfortunately, he wasn’t fast enough and the ghost reappeared.

Castiel raised the rod threateningly but the ghost moved faster than he could now that he was human and not angel. Before he knew what was happening, his feet were off the ground and he was flying through the air. As he landed in the grass near a tombstone several feet away, he had the fleeting thought that flying by ghost toss was less smooth and pleasant than flying by angel wing. Groaning, he pushed himself upright, eyes widening when he saw the ghost heading back toward Sam who was still fighting to ignite the lighter. He saw Sam lock wide eyes on the ghost, lips parted in frantic panting.

“Hey!” Castiel barked, attempting to get the ghost’s attention back on him and off of Sam. He jerked his hands across the grass beside where he’d landed in search of the iron bar but he must have lost it when he’d been thrown. He couldn’t even see it as he rose to his feet. “Leave him alone!”

The ghost gave another angry shriek but came for him instead. The realization that he’d gained her attention but had no weapon to fight her with sent chills through Castiel. But as long as he could keep her away from Sam long enough to light the body, he’d let her toss him around a bit more.

Unfortunately, she had other plans.

“ _You_ ,” she hissed, stalking toward him in a more sedate pace than she had been charging at them with before. “You are a pain in the ass, you know that?”

Before Castiel could process what was happening, the ghost charged at him with a prolonged, enraged cry. He barely had time to take one step back before he was being slammed into by a wall of _cold_. His body shuddered in reaction but he barely noticed because suddenly he had no control over his own body. He felt the ghost’s presence inside him and could do little more than watch as she stalked toward Sam in his body.

 _Get. Out!_ he snarled. _Leave him alone!_

The ghost ignored him.

He tried to fight her, feeling his body stalking toward Sam who stared at him wide-eyed, lighter in hand. The ghost curled his lips into a sneer and cocked his head.

“Drop the lighter, Sam,” he heard himself purr. “I’ve got control of your friend here. Your brother over there is unconscious. Nothing to keep me from stopping you now.”

Sam glared and his hands shook as he flicked at the lighter several times, trying to get it to light. Why did it seem like Dean had an easier time lighting the damn things?!

“Sam,” the ghost warned in Castiel’s gravelly voice. “Did you know your friend brought a blade with him?”

Sam’s breath caught as he glanced up to see the ghost reaching Castiel’s hand into the inside pocket of his trench coat and pulling out Castiel’s angel blade.

 _NO!_ Castiel snarled, unsure what the ghost planned to _do_ with his angel blade but the ghost still ignored him anyway.

Sam huffed a disbelieving breath and flicked the lighter a few more times. Seriously, was this one dead?! They should have checked to be _sure_ they had a working lighter before trying this. He glanced back up to see the ghost stalking toward him, glaring at him with Castiel’s face.

“Sam,” the ghost snarled. “Drop the lighter. Or I’ll use this.”

“Yeah?” Sam panted, flicking at the lighter and _finally!_ It lit, illuminating his face and the grave beside him. He huffed a relieved laugh and held it above the grave. “I don’t think so.”

Castiel, trapped in his own body, watched several things happen at once in that moment, unable to stop any of it. As if in slow motion, he saw the lighter drop from Sam’s hand, felt his body rushing toward the Winchester, an enraged cry filling the air in his voice. His hand took aim with his angel blade and his body connected with Sam’s, sending them both to the dirt. They landed and just before the lighter made contact with the body and it was engulfed in flames, Castiel felt the familiar resistance of a blade slicing through yielding flesh.

And then nothing.

The smothering presence of the ghost was gone and Castiel felt control pass to him once more. He glanced to the side to see the body burning then down where he was sprawled atop Sam’s chest, his hand still gripping the hilt of the angel blade. Cold dread washed over him and sent nausea roiling in the pit of his stomach as he flicked his eyes down toward the blade, afraid he knew what he’d find. He gaped at the sight and his lips parted to try to catch his breath around the shock of it.

The blade gripped in his hand had been shoved to the hilt through Sam’s lower abdomen. Blood slowly dampened Sam’s button-down shirt but with the blade still securely in the wound, he wasn’t bleeding profusely.

Yet.

“Sam,” Castiel breathed in a pleading tone, taking his shaking hand from the blade before he could cause any more damage, eyes flicking to Sam’s face.

Sam’s eyes were wide and his mouth was hung open in a silent cry. At Castiel’s utterance of his name, he blinked a few times and flicked his eyes toward him. He swallowed a few times then slowly trailed his eyes down his torso where he saw the hilt of Castiel’s blade nestled up against his abdomen. That meant the blade was… He felt his panting increase and his body tremble.

“Sam!” Castiel called, grasping either side of the youngest Winchester’s face to force him to meet Castiel’s eyes. “Sam, look at me. You’ll be alright. I’ll get Dean and we’ll get you patched up, okay?”

Sam gasped a few times and nodded, lifting a shaking hand to grasp at Castiel’s wrist for a moment before dropping it again.

Castiel swallowed hard around the lump in his throat as he reluctantly pushed himself upright and staggered back a few steps then turned toward Dean. This was all his fault. He couldn’t protect the two people he cared most about. And the ghost had used _him_ to attack Sam. It had been _his_ hand on his blade. The image flashed through his mind in slow motion – his hand aiming the blade at Sam, pushing it into the other man’s flesh as they fell together. Not an accident but a purposeful attack using _his_ hand and _his_ blade.

It would be all his fault if Sam…

Castiel set his jaw and shook the thoughts away as he strode the few feet to where Dean still slumped against the tree. Sam would be _fine_. Castiel would wake Dean and Dean would know what to do. Dean would fix this.

“Dean,” he called sharply as he gingerly gave the eldest Winchester a shake. Then he tapped at his face, calling his name louder, harsher.

Finally, Dean groaned and shifted against the tree. His eyes fluttered open and he attempted to push himself upright.

“Cas?” he croaked.

“Sam’s hurt,” Castiel said, not wasting any time. He wanted to let Dean orient himself and be sure he was steady but he knew if Dean could move, nothing was broken. He’d likely have a concussion but Sam needed them.

“Sam?” Dean asked, eyes scanning the nearby area for his little brother.

“Yes,” Castiel huffed. He tried not to feel anger that Dean was responding slowly. It wasn’t Dean’s fault. But Castiel _had_ to push him. If they were too slow and Sam… “Sam. He’s hurt.”

The repetition that Sam was hurt seemed to push Dean into full consciousness. He pushed himself fully into a sitting position and rubbed near the spot on his head where he’d been bleeding. Thankfully, he didn’t seem to be now. He groaned again when his fingers encountered what was likely a bruise. He’d probably have a nice bump, too.

“Please tell me you fried that bitch,” he groused.

“Yes,” Castiel said impatiently. “Dean, Sam is hurt,” he repeated. “She possessed me and used my blade to stab him. Please, help!”

That _really_ got Dean’s attention and he was fully alert in less than a second. He shoved himself upright, swaying only slightly, and caught sight of Sam lying beside the burning grave. His little brother’s face looked pale in the orange glow of the flame and his hands twitched at his sides, eyes locked on his torso.

Where the hilt of Castiel’s angel blade protruded from.

“Shit,” Dean hissed, hurrying across the grass to drop to his knees beside Sam. “Sammy,” he barked, quickly donning that commanding big brother tone he used when Sam was sick or hurt and needed to focus to keep from going into shock. “Sammy, look at me. Don’t look at the wound. Look at _me_.”

Sam’s breath came in short pants as he tore his eyes from the wound to his brother’s face.

“That’s it,” Dean praised. He lifted one hand to card through Sam’s hair while the other rested heavily at the side of his neck. “I’m gonna go get the car and get the med kit. We’ll do what we can and get you to the hospital, okay? Cas is gonna stay here with you,” he added, the sharp tone he used more for Castiel’s benefit, making it clear to the fallen angel it was an order. “You stay awake, you got me?”

Sam nodded then grunted as he shuddered.

Dean pushed off his coat and tucked it around Sam’s shoulders and chest, careful not to let it touch the blade embedded in his stomach.

“It’s not much but it’s the best I can do. Don’t wanna drape anything over that blade,” Dean said, nodding at said blade.

“S… S’okay,” Sam panted then whined in pain, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Okay, car,” Dean muttered, shoving himself to his feet. “Car and med kit. Stay awake, Sam. Cas, keep talking to him,” he ordered as he jogged away.

Castiel nodded at his retreating back then turned to Sam, swallowing nervously. Sam’s eyes were gazing upward toward the sky. He didn’t seem like he remembered Castiel was even there.

“Sam,” Castiel said, lifting a hand to rest on Sam’s shoulder but he decided he shouldn’t touch and dropped it back into his lap. “I am so sorry. I couldn’t stop her and she hurt you. I couldn’t protect either of you. And now you’re…” His eyes skimmed down Sam’s torso to the hilt of his blade.

Sam shook his head. It was a small motion but obviously deliberate. “Cas,” he breathed, turning to look up at Castiel through eyes hazy with pain. “N-Not… your fault… Be… okay… Dean will…” He groaned and squeezed his eyes shut.

“Dean will fix it,” Castiel finished for him. He sighed when Sam nodded. “Dean was hurt, too, but he has to push himself to fix this because I can’t fix either of you. I was stupid and trusted Metatron and now I have no grace to heal you with.”

Sam slid a hand from under Dean’s jacket to grasp at one of Castiel’s still in his lap. “Cas. Stop,” he growled with as much force as he could manage. “You… You weren’t stupid. You didn’t… didn’t know. You only wanted… to help Heaven.”

Castiel shook his head, gazing down to where their hands were clasped together. “I am still sorry you got hurt. I wish I could just pull it out and heal you like I used to.”

“F… Fine,” Sam panted. “We’ll… We’ll find… your grace.” He gave Castiel such a warm smile that made the fallen angel want to sob. Even hurt because of him, Sam still forgave him.

The familiar rumble of the Impala broke the following silence and Castiel looked up to see Dean maneuvering the car through the paths that weaved through the cemetery. When he pulled to a stop as close to them as he could, he hurried out and toward them, med kit in hand. He must have pulled it from the trunk before bringing the car.

“What do we do?” Castiel asked as Dean dropped to his knees on Sam’s opposite side.

“You keep him focused on you,” Dean ordered, flicking open the top and digging through it. “Keep his mind away from what I’m doing while I get that fucker out and-”

“You can’t!” Castiel protested, wide eyes landing on the blade. “That’s stopping him from bleeding out. If you pull it out, he’ll lose too much blood!”

“If I leave it in there, it’ll cause more damage when we move him into the car,” Dean growled. “Keep him focused on you,” he ordered again in a dismissive tone, hands already tugging at Sam’s shirt as gently as he could to expose the wound.

Castiel bit back a growl of frustration, knowing Dean was right, and turned his attention back to Sam’s face. Sam’s focus seemed to be on Dean’s hands. Dean didn’t want it there so he gently touched Sam’s cheek and turned his head so Sam was forced to meet Castiel’s eyes.

“Sam, did you know there’s a waterfall in Venezuela called Angel Falls?” he said, grasping at something that would catch the youngest Winchester’s attention.

The random topic and the name of the waterfall did the trick, Sam’s eyebrows lifting in surprise as he shook his head. Dean snorted though he didn’t say anything as he worked.

“It’s not as holy as it sounds,” Castiel added, offering Sam a sheepish smile. “The angels had nothing to do with it. It’s named after a U.S. aviator named Jimmie Angel. It is three-thousand, one-hundred, and twelve feet tall. It is very beautiful. Perhaps when you are healed and we find my grace, I will fly you both there.”

Sam offered a small grin and nodded then tipped his head back and groaned long and deep as Dean pulled the blade out and quickly began working. He panted harshly and whimpered as he felt the blood rushing down his sides. His mouth hung open in shock as he gasped for breath.

“Sam, look at me,” Castiel ordered, gently clasping his hands on either side of Sam’s face to force his eyes back to his own. “Keep your eyes on me.”

“Keep talkin’ to him, Cas,” Dean ordered.

Castiel nodded without taking his eyes from Sam. “When I can fly again, I can take you to a lot of beautiful places, Sam,” he breathed, grasping at anything to keep Sam listening. “I could keep us invisible and take you to places no human is allowed inside of. You could explore Stonehenge or Machu Picchu.”

“Pikachu what?” Dean asked absently as he pressed a wad of gauze against the wound, causing Sam to groan though the younger brother didn’t look away from Castiel. “Hold that,” he ordered.

“Machu Picchu,” Castiel said more clearly, not taking his own eyes away from Sam’s as he moved one hand from his face to press the gauze against the wound while Dean prepared medical tape to keep it there until they could get Sam to a hospital. “It is incorrectly referred to as The Lost City of the Incas. It is a fort or fortress built into a mountain almost eight-thousand feet above sea level.”

Dean snorted in amusement. “See, Sammy? You gotta stay with me so we can get you all fixed up so you and Cas can go be nerdy all over the world.”

Sam huffed a small laugh and nodded. “F-Fun,” he breathed.

“Where else would you go, Cas?” Dean asked, noticing Castiel’s pattern for ancient landmarks and helping keep him focused.

“Dean, you might like Bran Castle in Romania,” Castiel added though he didn’t look away from Sam. “It is referred to as Dracula’s castle.”

“Dracula as in _Dracula_ Dracula?” Dean asked. “He was a vampire, right?”

“Yes,” Castiel said, nodding. “He is also said to be the origin of werewolf legends as well. It is theorized that he was based off of the fifteenth century prince Vlad the Impaler. But while the novel cites Bran Castle as Dracula’s home, there is no evidence to suggest Stoker knew of the castle. He set Dracula’s castle on an empty mountaintop called Mount Izvorul Călimanului near Moldavia.”

“How do you know about the novel?” Dean asked distractedly as he taped down the gauze. He pulled a face when he saw it was bleeding through and dug through the kit for any more gauze.

“Metatron forced information about countless books into my brain,” Castiel mumbled, the thought of the other angel and his deception causing a flare of anger and self-hatred for trusting him.

“Okay, I think that’s as good as we can get it,” Dean sighed, taping the last of the gauze in place. “Cas, help me get him into the car. Sammy, you hang in there, got me?”

Sam nodded and grit his teeth as the two hauled him to his feet. He groaned at the burning pain in his abdomen, letting his chin drop to his chest as he panted. Dean and Castiel each draped an arm across their shoulders and they shuffled toward the car as quickly as they could.

“Almost there, Sammy,” Dean soothed as they neared the Impala and he reached for the back door handle. He yanked it open then gently took Sam’s weight from Castiel and gently laid him across the backseat.

While Dean settled Sam, Castiel ran back to gather the med kit and Dean’s coat. They would come in handy on the drive back toward town and the hospital. He also retrieved his angel blade. While the sight of the silver weapon coated in Sam’s blood made his stomach roll with the memory of what the ghost made him do with it, he knew it would be worse if someone else found it.

“Here,” he panted as he jogged back to the car, offering Dean his coat just as Dean straightened. “Let him use it as a pillow. With the blade out, my coat will cover more of him as a blanket.”

Dean nodded and balled up his jacket and carefully eased it under Sam’s head while Castiel removed his coat. He passed it to Dean who draped it over Sam, tucking it in to keep him warm.

“Sit with him,” Dean said as Castiel stepped toward the front, intending on sitting with Dean. “I need you to keep him awake. Keep talking about nerdy places you’d take him or something.”

Castiel nodded and eyed the back of the car. With Sam sprawled out on the seat, that only left the footwell which would be a tight fit. But Castiel reasoned he would manage. He refused to try laying Sam across his lap in case he agitated the wound in Sam’s torso. While Dean gave him an odd look, he sunk down against the floor then scooted back so his back was to the opposite door beside Sam’s head.

“What?” he growled, glaring at Dean.

Dean shook his head. “Nothing. I’ll try to drive careful, okay?” When Castiel nodded, he shut the door and rounded the car to slip into the front seat.

“Where… else…?” Sam panted, offering Castiel a small smile.

As the engine roared to life and the car began moving, Castiel slipped his hand under the edge of his coat to grasp at Sam’s on the seat, smiling when Sam gave it a light squeeze. “I could take you to other natural landmarks like Niagra Falls, or ancient man made locations like Chichen Itza or The Leaning Tower of Pisa. I can take you to so many beautiful places, Sam.”

Sam nodded, smiling softly. “Want to,” he panted then groaned when Dean hit an unavoidable pothole in the road.

“Sorry,” Dean muttered.

The smile Castiel had had as he’d listed places he would go when he got his grace back fell at Sam’s obvious pain. He lifted his free hand to brush Sam’s hair back, thumb caressing the pinched lines of his brow. “I am sorry, Sam,” he said for what felt like the fiftieth time since he’d regained control of his body to see what the ghost did. “I wish I could take your pain away and fix this.”

Sam shook his head, unintentionally dislodging Castiel’s hand. “O… Okay, Cas.”

Castiel sighed, not feeling like any of this was okay, but he didn’t argue. He didn’t want Sam trying to talk any more than necessary when he was trying to breathe through the pain. Instead, he tried to think of something else to talk about that would distract Sam.

“We could go anywhere, Sam,” he said softly, thumb stroking back and forth over Sam’s hand. “Do you remember that movie you showed me a few days ago? The musical about the deformed man and the teenage girl?”

Sam nodded. “Ph… Phantom,” he groaned.

Castiel nodded and squeezed Sam’s hand in silent reassurance. “That one, yes. I can take you there. To the real Palais Garnier. It looks much different now than in the eighteen-hundreds, of course, but I can take you.” This earned a broader smile from Sam which made Castiel smile wider. “I will take you anywhere, Sam. When I can fly again, I will take you. I promise.”

Sam nodded but Castiel could see the light in his eyes dimming. He was paler and he wasn’t shaking. Lifting the edge of his coat, Castiel’s breath caught hen he saw the gauze was soaked through. “Dean, hurry,” he called without turning toward the other Winchester, trying to keep his voice calm.

“Shit,” Dean hissed, pressing down a bit more on the gas. “Sorry, Baby…”

In the end, they made it to the hospital before Sam lost consciousness. Dean pulled up to the ER and threw the car in park. He ordered Castiel to get out but stay with Sam while he hurried into the building. Then there were several medical personnel swarming the car and pushing Castiel back away from Sam while they got him out of the car and onto a gurney. Then they were taking him away and he and Dean were told to wait in a small room with hard plastic chairs and a television playing late night game shows. Dean had been given a clipboard with forms to fill out before they were left alone in the little waiting room.

“You should let them look at you, too,” he said quietly when he and Dean were left alone after the nurse took the information Dean had filled out.

“I’m fine, Cas,” Dean said from his chair in the corner. “I ain’t passed out or puked yet so I figure I’m good enough. Besides, I need to be here so I can see Sammy when they’re done.”

Castiel bit back a sigh and sat beside Dean.

They lapsed into a tense silence which only grew as time passed. After a half an hour, Dean was up and pacing, barely holding back the urge to go bother the nurses for information. Castiel had given up all attempts to get him to rest but kept watch just in case anyway.

“It’s not your fault, you know.”

Castiel blinked back into focus and looked up at Dean who had stopped pacing to stand a few feet in front of Castiel. “Hm?”

“What happened to Sam wasn’t your fault,” Dean said. “It wasn’t _you_ doing it.”

Castiel sighed and shook his head. “It was my body and my blade. I was aware of what the ghost was doing the whole time she was in control. The image of my hand pushing that blade into Sam will be seared into my brain forever. And on top of that, _you_ got hurt as well. I couldn’t protect either of you. I’m useless as a human.”

“Cas,” Dean said sympathetically as he sat beside the fallen angel again. “I volunteered to be the bitch’s punching bag so you two could torch her ass. That’s not on you.”

“You shouldn’t have done it alone. I should have helped distract her. Instead, I tried dividing my attention between you two and you both got hurt.”

“Shoulda, coulda, woulda,” Dean murmured. “Hindsight’s always twenty-twenty, Cas, but that ain’t gonna change what happened. So I got dinged,” Dean said with a shrug. “I’ve been beaten up a helluva lot worse.”

“But, Sam-”

“Sam’s _alive_. Because of you.”

Castiel huffed a disbelieving laugh and looked away. “No, he’s alive because of _you._ You knew what to do to keep him from dying until we could get here. _I_ make a mistake and _you_ have to clean it up.”

“ _You_ woke my ass up,” Dean stressed. “You knew you needed help and you got it. You coulda tried to handle me being unconscious and Sam being hurt by yourself but you didn’t. You knew you needed help and you pushed me to it. Sammy is alive – and he’s gonna _stay_ that way – because of _you_ , Cas.”

Castiel shook his head but didn’t argue. He wasn’t sure if he could believe Dean and stop blaming himself for what happened to the two of them but he knew trying to get Dean to see how it _was_ Castiel’s fault wouldnt work any more than Dean trying to get Castiel to see that it _wasn’t_. Dean would just become more angry with him and he didn’t want that.

“Hey,” Dean said quietly after several minutes of silence, gently nudging his shoulder against Castiel’s. “You really gonna take Sammy to all those places when we get you your wings back?”

Castiel turned back to Dean with an expression of _of course I am, how could you think I wouldn’t?_ “Why wouldn’t I?”

Dean shrugged. “I don’t know. I thought maybe you were just pulling shit out of your ass to keep talking to keep him awake.”

Castiel chuckled and shook his head. “No. I will take you both to all of those places when I can fly again.”

“I just wanna see Dracula’s castle,” Dean said with a grin. “You and Sammy can go nerd out over those Makka Pikachu and Chicken Pizza places and the opera house.”

Castiel threw his head back and laughed at Dean’s butchering of _Machu Picchu_ and _Chichen Itza._ He didn’t even bother correcting him on the pronunciation or the fact that Bran Castle _wasn’t_ really Dracula’s castle.

His laughter calming, the two lapsed into silence once more. Castiel felt a bit lighter after Dean had made him laugh. He still felt like the two of them getting hurt was his fault because he was human but he knew continuing to blame himself like he had been would do no good. Dean was alert and okay right in front of him and Sam… Well, Sam wasn’t okay. Not now anyway. But he would be.

“Mr. Smith?”

The two looked up as a doctor entered the quiet room. He was older, probably late forties, early fifties with salt and pepper hair and crow’s feet. Dean was immediately on his feet and meeting the man halfway across the room. Castiel followed at a calmer pace, standing just behind Dean to his left.

“How is he? How’s my brother?” Dean asked, just short of demanding.

“Your brother suffered-”

“I know what was wrong with him,” Dean interrupted with a dismissive hand. “Just tell me you fixed it and that he’s gonna be okay.”

The doctor sighed in slight frustration but as long as his patient’s family member wasn’t being belligerent, he’d let it slide. He flipped to a new page on his chart before speaking.

“We sewed up the wound, bandaged it, and now he’s resting,” the doctor explained as simple as possible.

“He’s gonna be okay?” Castiel asked, almost dizzy with relief. Sam wasn’t going to die because of him…

The doctor nodded. “The wound will heal. We’ve got him resting and on some pain meds. I’d like to keep him for a day or two to let him rest and recover before moving about.”

“Can we see him?” Dean asked, almost vibrating with anticipation.

The doctor nodded. “As I said, I have him on pain meds so he might be sleepy but you can sit with him.”

He led them from the room and up a few floors then through a maze of hallways before stopping at a closed door. Through the little window, Castiel saw Sam lying in the hospital bed in a gown. He looked like he was only sleeping – and, logically, Castiel knew that was true – instead of injured.

Dean entered first, confidently crossing the room to sit in the chair at Sam’s bedside. Castiel hesitated, staying near the door which had closed behind them, the doctor leaving them alone.

“Hey, Sammy,” Dean breathed, grasping Sam’s hand in his own. “Told you you’d be okay. The doc wants you to stay here for a couple of days but I bet once you’re awake, you’ll be itchin’ to get outta here.”

“You’ll make him stay, right?” Castiel asked quietly, cautiously taking a few steps closer.

“I should,” Dean agreed. “Hell, every part of me is screaming at me to make him stay, let the docs heal him up. But you know as well as I do that if it were me, I’d be telling you both to take me home. And you heard the doc. He’ll be fine. I don’t see the harm in gettin’ outta here and back to the bunker.”

Castiel nodded, knowing he’d never change the brothers’ minds, and moved around to sit on the other side of the bed. He watched Dean absently rubbing a thumb back and forth over the back of Sam’s hand then carefully took Sam’s other hand in his own.

They sat that way for an indiscernible amount of time before Sam stirred, eyes fluttering and his brow furrowed. Dean and Castiel both sat straighter in their seats, eyes locked on Sam, watching him as he fought back to consciousness.

“Sammy?”

Sam hummed a vague acknowledgement as his eyes fluttered open, head lolling to look at Dean. “D’n?”

“Hey,” Dean breathed. “Sleeping Beauty finally awakens. I was afraid you’d make me kiss you to wake you up.”

“Shut up,” Sam mumbled before he seemed to realize both hands were being held and turned toward Castiel. When he saw him, he offered a small smile. “Hey, Cas.”

“Hello, Sam. I am glad you’re going to be okay,” Castiel said, returning the small smile with one of his own.

“I’ll be okay,” Sam confirmed, still too tired to muster up more than mumbling. “’Sides, you said you’d take me all over the world when we got your grace break. Had to get better.”

“I did,” Castiel agreed, his smile widening. “And I will. I’ll take you anywhere you want to go.”


End file.
